


Kiss Me Deadly

by knifemoomin



Category: Red Queen Series - Victoria Aveyard
Genre: Bi Mare, Canon Divergence, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/F, Lesbian Shenanigans, Matchmaking Plot??, Slow Burn, includes Elane Haven/Evangeline Samos, no beta we die like shade, when i say "slow burn" i mean that you're going to have to read like 30k words before they kiss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:35:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25475488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knifemoomin/pseuds/knifemoomin
Summary: Mare saves Evangeline's life after a telkie blast stops her heart. Enemies-to-lovers fanfiction ensues.
Relationships: Mare Barrow/Evangeline Samos
Comments: 13
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *comes into this fandom with iced coffee and a rare-pair*
> 
> Ever since I read that scene in War Storm where Mare blushes at Evangeline before sparring with her, I've wanted to write a dramatic femslash fanfiction of them. I hope to update this fic maybe once a month? But it really depends on my motivation to write, so I may update before or after the one-month mark, who knows.
> 
> This occurs in the continuity of War Storm in the way that I forget and ignore half of the things that happen in that book.

If you had told Mare Barrow that—after an unprecedented and often perplexing chain of events—she would wind up kissing Evangeline Samos, she would’ve kicked your ass.

She couldn’t really pinpoint the moment it began. The last days of the war, most likely. Perhaps, when she broke out of Maven’s palace. Maybe it was the bright flash of Evangeline’s silver hair as she rained down metal destruction in the Queenstrial arena, the way she curled her mouth into a smirk, certain that she had already won.

That’s way too early, though. They hated each other back then with the fire of one thousand suns.

The night when it started, Mare was leaning against the table at the control room in a remote Nortan base. She crossed her arms. Really, there wasn’t any room to lean comfortably without crashing into a control pad, or a monitor, or anything else of that sort, so she settled on having the very edge of the middle table press against her lower back. 

She and a small team had been tasked with infiltrating the base at Kirkwall, a town seven hours away from Delphie that barely contained a post office, a handful of houses, and fifty people. Briefings from the Nortan Army were encrypted there before being relayed to the capital, and the Scarlet Guard had gotten intel that the base had received information about Maven’s next move. Premier Davidson, the leader of the nation of Montfort, had gotten the last word: their makeshift coalition would send someone to check it out. 

The control room had been designed to fit three people at most—not the five-person squad they had packed in a transport and sent to Kirkwall. To Mare’s left, Evangeline had shoved a control pad off the spot where she was bodily sitting. Next to _her_ , Cal picked at his fire-starting bracelet. Ella, another electricon, looked over the shoulder of Bryce, the Scarlet Guard tech wiz they were charged with escorting. He fiddled with code on the main screen. Ella was there due to her skill at intercepting electrical systems with her powers. However, Mare appreciated the buffer she provided between her and the two people that she would’ve least preferred to share close quarters with apart from Maven himself. 

They hadn’t had any trouble getting to the control room. Mare had put more effort into learning the directions than she had ever put into classes at the run-down school at the Stilts: _left, right, left, left, right, left_. Then came a checkpoint, where she held a guard’s finger up to the scanner. He was a Gliacon that Mare had knocked out in front of the base before proceeding to lug him around with Cal for three floors. When the guard’s fingerprint unlocked the door, they descended. Rinse, repeat.

They had kept an eye out for other soldiers before making each turn, but so far, no one had shown. This was almost more unbearable than having people attack them outright. Anxiety had made its way to the pit of Mare’s stomach and stayed there like a woodpecker tucked away in its nest. 

Evangeline was the first one to break the impenetrable silence of the control room. She huffed and said, “I really don’t see why they had to send all of us on a mission to this glorified outhouse.”

Cal kept looking down at his hands. “I already told you, this information is extremely important, and I wanted to make sure that-”

“I’m just saying, if this base gets pelted by bombs right now, your _dearest_ grandmother is going to lose both her heir and his betrothed.” 

“Wow,” Mare cut in, “I’m hurt. You wouldn’t care if a bomb hit me and Ella, or even Bryce?”

“I _really_ wouldn’t,” said Evangeline. 

“The feeling is mutual, pal.”

Cal raked a hand through his hair with a pained look. He alternated between two expressions these days: looking like he was sorry for his existence and poorly masking the fact that he felt sorry for his existence. He took in a breath. Cal opened his mouth to speak when the main screen emitted a loud chirp. Everyone straightened immediately and turned to look at Bryce. 

The tech whiz shrank in his rolling chair. He was in his mid-twenties and therefore older than everyone else in the room, though, for all intents and purposes, he looked like he was still sixteen. Bryce sheepishly held up a small drive. “I’ve got the info.” 

Evangeline practically hopped out of her spot. “Great! Now we can leave,” she said. She pulled a knife out from the inside of one of her boots and headed toward the door. “Don’t wait up.” 

Mare and Cal bent down to lift the body of the Gliacon guard, which had been taking up approximately a third of the floor space in the tiny control room. Mare had pumped electricity into him without intending to kill him, and she was rather surprised that he had stayed unconscious during the whole trek to the center of the base. She and Cal, body in tow, exited the room. 

The Kirkwall base was constructed in a deceptively simple manner. A barren concrete façade concealed an interior with maze-like hallways that spiraled down around the control room. The hallways themselves were made of unforgiving steel and lit with dim fluorescent lights. The five of them scurried around the hallways: Evangeline led the charge, quickly followed by Ella, with Bryce at the center, and Mare and Cal bringing up the rear with the body. 

They had just reached the second floor when Mare heard a faint moan coming from somewhere in the vicinity. Mare and Cal hadn’t spoken more deeply than two-word exchanges after he’d casually tossed her aside in favor of his grandmother’s crown. In that moment, she forced herself to speak to him: “Do you hear that?” 

Cal looked startled for a second, but he soon re-assumed his mask of cool indifference. “Hear what?” 

“The moan.” 

“ _What_ moan?” 

“You know, that _hnnnnrgh_ sound that happened just now.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Do you even have ears, Tiberias?” Mare turned to the rest of the group in front of them, “You guys heard that, right-” 

_Smack!_ Pain bloomed across Mare’s face. She yelped. “Shit!”

It happened in seconds. Mare jerked her hands away to bring them to her nose. Cal was left holding the body’s legs, and it slipped away from his grasp. The guard landed on the floor with a _thud_. He was up in seconds, with bloody murder in his ice-blue eyes. 

Ella moved to attack first. Her fingertips sparked with blue lightning. They would’ve reached the Gliacon if he hadn’t turned his attention to her fingers—they turned a fiery red and her sparks died right there. Cal rushed to warm her hands. 

The Gliacon turned and started running in the direction that they’d come from. Mare summoned her own electricity, but Evangeline had her beat. Her knife whizzed through the air like a silver bullet. It landed true in the Gliacon’s back. With his last staggering steps, he walked towards a notch in the gunmetal wall and wrapped his hand around a lever.

Mare needed to stop him. Her purple sparks reached out to him like long fingers, and his body spasmed. The guard fell to his knees. It was too late, though. He’d pulled the lever down with him. 

A siren rang out. It was an earthshakingly loud sound which reverberated around the narrow underground corridor. The harsh lights flickered on and off. They heard the faint pounding of footsteps. The body of the Gliacon guard lay on the floor on a pool of silver, but everyone looked at each other in panic. They’d been found out. 

Ella thanked Cal with a nod of her head. She aimed at the light fixtures on the ceiling. Blue sparks shot out of her hands, and the siren cut off. Then, the hallway was plunged into darkness. 

Cal flickered on his flame bracelet. The orange light bounced off the walls. To the front of them, the shadows of multiple soldiers grew as they approached the bend in the hallway.

_So much for stealth_ , Mare thought. At this point, there was only one thing they could do. They ran. 

The intention was for everyone to stay together. However, the team split in two when they reached the first major cross-roads, and then they split again, until Mare found herself traversing the winding halls of the base alone. The route she had so painstakingly memorized lay forgotten in her mind, replaced by pure adrenaline. She turned right _here_ , and left _there_ , passing offices the size of closets and closets the size of offices, until she was only faced by a large steel panel. A dead end. 

She paused in front of the wall. Her breaths came in short bursts, but she wasn’t doubling over yet. She had no idea where exactly she was. Footsteps echoed from a nearby hallway. They were a reminder that she needed to get away, and she needed to do it quickly. 

Mare leaned on a wall to catch her breath, transferring her weight onto it. The panel buckled. Mare raised an eyebrow. She turned to face the wall and gently rapped her knuckles on the steel panel. _Clang, clang, clang_. It was curiously hollow. She shifted her sight to the panel adjacent to it. Mare knocked. This one was sturdier, thicker. She knew it; there was something behind that first panel. 

Throwing all her strength into it, she pushed. The panel gave way almost immediately, revealing a space scarcely wider than Cal. A silver ladder was fixed close to the wall, leading to goodness-knows-where. Mare didn’t really have a choice. She climbed. 

The rungs led to a trapdoor. Mare heaved herself over it until she lay cheek-to-cheek with the cold floor of the room within. It seemed to be a large warehouse, completely dark save for a few strips of moonlight let in by slats close to the ceiling. The only things in the warehouse were a few stacks of metal boxes pushed to the edges of the room. The path to the exit—double doors flung wide open—lay conspicuously clear in front of her. 

Mare rose. One foot in front of the other, she started cautiously making the way to the other end of the warehouse. The sound of her boots on the floor, the only noise in that deathly quiet room, sent shivers up her spine with every step.

Mare’s nose still throbbed from when the Gliacon had hit it. She hadn’t noticed due to the adrenaline, but it had begun to bleed, and a burst of red stained her shirtfront. Her sense of direction had been irrevocably fucked up by the chase in the lower floor. If she exited the warehouse unharmed, would she even know where she was? 

She was a few feet from the door when she heard it. Almost imperceptible, it was. A noise like the one her steps made, coming from somewhere near. Mare froze and sucked in a breath. She tried to scrutinize the darkness around her. _Nothing_. She summoned her sparks as a precaution. Her power pooled around her fingertips—a welcome feeling. 

A figure dashed in the corner of her eye. Mare spun. The figure was on her in an instant. It had unsheathed a knife as long as her forearm, and its wickedly sharp point glinted in the moonlight. It was aiming for her head. Mare ducked. The flat part of the blade hit her instead. Pain shot through her temple. 

She wrapped her hand around her assailant’s neck. When her skin touched theirs, they dropped instantly, twitching at her feet with twisting limbs. Upon a closer look, the figure was small and slim, with close-cropped hair and a skin-tight black suit.

Mare turned to run out the doors, but a strange sound stopped her. It was a series of cracks, the gut-wrenching sound of bones mending, popping back into place. _A Blonos_. This was a skilled fighter, so far from Bess Blonos and her preening, unnatural youth. 

Keeping her eye on the figure, Mare stepped back. The Blonos lunged at her like an animal. They landed on her, throwing her off balance, and both crashed onto the floor. Mare raised her hand then, but the Blonos wrapped their hand around her wrist and pinned her hand to the ground with an almost imperceptible speed. 

_Her wrists_. Mare’s sight blurred, and memories flashed in her brain like the water floods a sinking boat. A white room, ringing in her brain. Maven’s cold face, and, always, the oppressive weight of the Silent Stone manacles on her wrists. She remembered how the Silence had slowly wrung the breath from her body, although that simply might’ve been the Blonos’s hand pressing against her throat…

The pressure on her neck eased. The Blonos fell sideways, their body ragdoll-limp, while their head rolled away. Bright silver splattered Mare’s face. She brought her fingers to her wrist, as if to soothe an ache. 

Evangeline stood at the threshold to the room, looking more at home in Court rather than a base in the middle of nowhere. Her arms were crossed. “Seems like you needed a little help there.” 

Never in her life had Mare been happier to see her, short of the moment she helped her escape Maven’s palace. “Um… thanks,” she said. When Evangeline made no move to help her up, Mare pushed herself off the ground. 

Evangeline scoffed. “Please. Even a seven-year-old can deal with a Blonos-”

_BOOM!_ She was cut off by a telekinetic blast which sent her flying several feet away. A telkie loomed behind Mare, who raised her hand and hit them straight on the chest with a bolt of lightning. Without turning to check if the telkie was dead, Mare ran towards where Evangeline lay in a crumpled heap. 

The blast had hammered an ugly dent in her armor. Mare roughly rolled her body over so that she was laying face-up. Mare put a hand to it; Evangeline’s chest was still. Pressing two fingers to her neck, Mare felt for a pulse. _Come on, come on, come on_. Nothing. Mare felt her heart at her throat; sharp panic flooded into her chest in its place. 

She reached into her mind for the things she’d learned in that CPR training session she’d had once at the base in Piedmont. Mare removed Evangeline’s chest armor, tore away scales until she’d revealed a pale undershirt. She placed her hands over the middle of Evangeline’s ribs. She pushed. _One, two, three_. Mare kept at it for one, three, five minutes until the last of her strength was leeched from her arms. She put a hand to Evangeline’s nose to check for breathing. No luck. 

A strangled gasp wrenched itself from her chest. Mare had never called Evangeline her friend, yet the sight of her limp body made her want to crawl out of her skin. The magnetron always seemed near-invincible, and now she was a small dead thing on the floor. 

Mare had seen many people die—hell, she’d caused some of those deaths herself. She’d seen people die in bombings, in battlefields, in the streets of the Stilts. Evangeline’s death would not just be the loss of a person, though: It would unravel the already precarious coalition between Cal’s family, the Kingdom of the Rift, and the Scarlet Guard. Mare and Cal’s tenuous mutual tolerance towards each other would dissolve entirely. Plus, Volo Samos would skin them all alive, and, despite everything, Mare liked having skin. 

Through the fog of panic, Mare remembered something that Tyton had said to her. They’d been sitting outside the mess hall at the base in Piedmont, observing a rabbit decay among the bushes.

_“How does it feel,” Mare asked him, “to hold death in your hands?”_

_Tyton, with his platinum hair and inscrutable face, seemed cold then. “I could ask the same of you.”_

_“Fair enough.”_

_“Our powers don’t only have destructive capabilities, you know. Any one of us could bring someone back to life. A concentrated hit to the heart, that’s what it takes.”_

Back in the warehouse, she steeled herself. _A concentrated hit to the heart._ Mare rubbed her hands together, feeling the electricity build. On three, she brought both her hands to rest on Evangeline’s chest. Her body jumped like a fish on land. Evangeline gasped. 

“The hell just happened?” Evangeline asked. She tried to sit up, but her arms failed her. She landed back on the floor where she’d started. 

Mare let out a breath. “Your heart stopped for a bit there.”

“ _What?_ ” 

Looping her arm across Evangeline’s shoulders, Mare helped her up. She supported Evangeline’s weight as they limped towards the double-doors at the end of the warehouse. Once they were out, the shapes of the others emerged in the darkness: Bryce clung steadfastly to Ella’s arm while Cal lit them from behind.

“I—What _happened_ to you two?” Cal asked. The concern was evident in his features: his drawn eyebrows, the way that his mouth was slightly parted. Mare wasn’t mad at him, and that, thusly, made her even angrier. He moved to place a hand on her shoulder, but at the way Mare stepped back, he withdrew it. 

Evangeline herself looked paler than usual. She swayed against Mare, unsteady on her feet. “I’ll tell you when we get to the transport,” Mare said. 

They reached the fortified entrance to the base. It couldn’t have been more than an hour since they’d initially infiltrated the place, knocked-out guard in tow. To Mare, it felt like a week. 

At Cal’s nod, Ella reinstated the electrical system. The alarm started blaring once again. He smashed his fist against the EXIT button next to the door. The lock slid off, slower than their blasted nerves would’ve liked. Soon, the doors were open, and they ran back into the night.

Unfortunately, the night contained a cluster of soldiers surrounding the base, holding pistols or exhibiting their own powers. Cal flicked on his flame bracelets, and electricity danced between Ella’s fingers. Evangeline extricated herself from Mare’s grasp, hands at the ready. 

Mare made an irritated noise. “Is dying, like, fun for you? Is that it?” she asked. 

Evangeline waved her away. “M’fine.” 

She didn’t have a chance to test that theory, because their transport quite literally crashed through the wall of soldiers, some of which bounced off the hood with loud _thuds_ to land motionless in front of their companions. The door to the transport opened, and Fen, their driver, peered at them with narrowed eyes. 

“What, don’t just stand there like a bunch of idiots! Get the fuck in!” Fen shouted. Mare had just enough time to shake off the momentary surprise and follow the team into the transport, where they sped off into the country road. A hail of bullets pinged against the transport’s re-enforced steel, the sound in tune with the staccato beat of Mare’s heart.

“That took you guys longer than usual,” Fen’s voice crackled across the shitty comm-link between the driver’s compartment and the cargo trunk where the five of them sat clustered.

“We got into a bit of trouble,” said Cal, with an airiness in his voice that hid how much of an understatement his words were. 

Mare sat against one of the walls of the transport. She stretched her legs in front of her, if only to provide a cushion for Evangeline, who had taken to laying her head on Mare’s lap. In the darkness of the trunk, she felt Evangeline’s body against hers.

They let a half hour pass by in complete silence. “Mare,” Cal said tentatively, when everyone was settled, “what happened over there?” Even in the scant lightning inside of the transport, Mare could feel Cal’s stare washing over her. She looked away. 

“Well,” she said, “I ended up in some warehouse. A Blonos attacked me. Evangeline killed him, then she was hit by a blast from a telkie. Her heart stopped, and I revived her.” 

“Revived her? How?” asked Cal. 

“I used my electricity. Like, what do you call it? A defibrillator.” 

“Wha… what? How long was she out?” 

“I don’t know! Five, ten minutes?” 

Cal let a few simmering seconds pass between them. Mare didn’t know what he was thinking. Then, he said, “I’m still not clear on how you ended up in that warehouse.”

“I’m telling you, I got lost! We all split up on the second floor. Just _try_ to remember, though I can see how that would be hard for you,” Mare spit. 

“Mare,” Cal’s steady voice was infuriating. “I’m just trying to look out for you, okay?”

“Have you thought that maybe I don’t need anyone to look out for me? Much less _you_?”

“ _Hnnnngh_ ,” Evangeline groaned. “You’re giving me a migraine. You sound like my parents…” She went limp and didn’t speak after that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone cautiously opened the door. There was a flurry of black skirts, a flash of orange hair. Elane Haven stood on the other side of the room. Her arms were wrapped around herself; her mouth, parted, as she took in the sight of Evangeline before her. Her eyes gleamed with tears. A moment passed, neither of them saying anything. Then, Elane’s lips drew into a thin and watery smile. 
> 
> “You’re awake,” she said quietly.

Evangeline opened her eyes. She was back at her room in the Kingdom of the Rift, laying on her four-poster bed and goose-feather pillows. The delicate sunlight of the late afternoon streamed in through the large windows. She stretched her limbs out under the thick comforter. 

Last she remembered, she was in a transport in the middle of the night. Her head was laying on the lap of Mare Barrow, of all people. She and Cal were fighting about something. Knowing them, it was probably something mind-numbingly stupid, but their words had evaporated in her mind before she’d been able to process them properly. The memory seemed so hazy that Evangeline wondered if it was simply the last vestiges of some horrible nightmare where she’d become entangled in Mare and Cal’s romantic drama… 

Oh, wait.

Her room was blissfully quiet. Maybe she had dreamt everything, not only last night but these past few months, the whole last _year_. Evangeline sat up. Her head felt jam-packed full of cotton. _What happened?_

There had been a base in the middle of nowhere. Dark halls, a guard’s body. That blue-haired electricon girl, Ella, had been there. And someone else, a skinny tech guy Evangeline hadn’t seen before in her life—what was his name, Bryan? There had been a warehouse and Mare Barrow had been there fighting a fucking Blonos. She’d killed him, and then-

Someone cautiously opened the door. There was a flurry of black skirts, a flash of orange hair. Elane Haven stood on the other side of the room. Her arms were wrapped around herself; her mouth, parted, as she took in the sight of Evangeline before her. Her eyes gleamed with tears. A moment passed, neither of them saying anything. Then, Elane’s lips drew into a thin and watery smile. 

“You’re awake,” she said quietly. 

Evangeline felt herself smile in kind. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Her hand brushed the spot next to her on the bed. The words went unspoken. _Come here._

Elane padded over quietly, and Evangeline pulled her close. Her skin was as smooth as a rose petal (too soft), and Evangeline took in the scent of her perfumed hair. Vanilla. She smelled like home. She _was_ home, as far as Evangeline was concerned. She was so close; Evangeline could count the freckles that dusted her nose. It was always like this: the girl with the hard-wrought iron heart and the only person who could crack it open. 

Evangeline leaned forward to that their foreheads were touching and pressed a kiss to the corner of Elane’s mouth. Elane stilled, then rested her hand along Evangeline’s jaw and brought their lips together. One peck turned to two, then three, until Elane had almost seated herself on top of her. They kissed languidly, and Evangeline’s hands found their way to the curve of her back, the swell of her breasts. 

“Wait,” Evangeline gasped. Elane pulled back and looked at her quizzically. Evangeline stared at her for a good two seconds, her mind spinning, before she said, “Where’s Ptolemus?” 

Elane sighed. “He’s with your parents.” The tone of her voice laid her implication bare: _He’s buying us time._

“Well, in that case,” Evangeline said, her hands reaching up to tug at the strings of her nightgown. She couldn’t remember that last time she’d slept clothed in her room at her father’s palace. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m, uh…” Evangeline stopped what she was doing. 

“You really thought we were going to have sex right now? Eve, you almost _died_!” Elane raked a hand through her hair. 

Evangeline shrugged. “I’ve been doing dangerous things all my life, Elane. It’s not like last night was any different.” 

It looked like someone had swapped out the features on Elane’s face. In all the years she and Evangeline had been childhood friends, and the four years since they’d shared a stolen kiss after a training session, she’d never looked like this. Drawn out, spread thin.

“It was! It was different, and you know it! Your heart _stopped_.” The tears were back on Elane’s waterline, threatening to spill out. 

“Darling-” 

“Don’t. I was there when the transport came back, you know. Me and Ptolemus. They brought you in on a stretcher, you were _unconscious_. And then they’re telling us, what, that a telkie hit you? That you went into cardiac arrest?” She was openly weeping now, heaving big breaths between every sentence. 

“But I’m fine—” 

“You know what the worst part was?” she seethed, “That I had to _pretend_. I had to stand there while, while the healers worked on your heart, and I had to act like we were just good friends, like it wasn’t tearing me apart!” 

Evangeline reached her hand out to swipe one of the tears making its way down Elane’s face. She swatted her hand away.

Most of the time they’d spent together in the last few months hadn’t been spent talking, to say the least. For how long had Elane felt like this? Evangeline opened her mouth to ask, but Elane cut her off. 

“I’m done,” said Elane. 

“Wait, what?”

“I’m done with this.” 

Evangeline let out an exasperated gasp. “Look, if you’re mad about everything that happened, I’m _sorry_.” 

Elane extricated herself from the tangle of blankets and Evangeline’s arms. She roughly smoothed down her skirts. The long-sleeved black frock she wore made her look like she was in mourning. 

“It’s not just that,” she said, her hands grasping at air, “It’s, it’s everything! Sneaking around was fun when we were like sixteen, but now I’m just worried! Eve, I worry _all the time_. About what our parents will do if they find out about us. You know that they want your brother and I to have children already…” 

Evangeline remembered the night that Elane told her about her mother’s habit of eavesdropping outside of her marriage bedroom. She didn’t fault Elane for anything, but the thought of her mother getting her wish turned her stomach. The image of Elane with one of those big baby bellies seemed almost obscene. Maybe it was the misery of the whole affair. Maybe it was because it was proof that they would never fully belong to each other. 

Evangeline stepped out of her bed. The tiled floor was cold under her bare feet. Her hands gripped Elane’s arms, and she leaned in close. She didn’t need to fake the desperation in her voice: “I don’t care! About any of that. You and Tolly can have thirty children and it wouldn’t matter to me.” 

Elane slid Evangeline’s hands off her forearms until their hands were linked together. Her gaze was lowered. “Well, _I_ care,” she said. She raised her eyes. A lengthy, unbearable pause. “Every time you leave, I imagine every single thing that could wrong. I can’t sleep. And then you come back and act like nothing happened?” Her eyes bored right into Evangeline, and, for the first time in her life, she wanted to look away. 

When Evangeline and Elane had contrived their plan along with Ptolemus, they’d seen the future ahead of them with a conviction that seemed embarrassing nowadays. Evangeline had been the sharp prodigy, with a throne assured at the arm of Tiberias Calore the Seventh while Elane, as her brother’s wife, was sure to become her shadow. Their dreams had disintegrated the moment the head of Cal’s father hit the floor, but they both hadn’t realized it. How foolish they had been. 

Something clawed at Evangeline’s chest. Her mouth gaped open. Strangled words died there before they could pass from her lips. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes and willed them to not drip.

Finally, she said, “Elane, _please_. Things might not be… ideal, right now, but I’ll figure something out, I swear! Everything will go back to normal. We just need to hold on!”  
Maybe if she spoke them, the words would come true.

Elane let go of Evangeline’s hands and stepped away. “If you think I’m just going to warm your bed and wait for you, then you’re wrong.” She put her hand to Evangeline’s cheek. “See you around, Eve.” 

Then, like the afternoon breeze that ruffles the curtains, she was gone.

\---

There was a minute of silence after that. Not silence, exactly, more like a concentrated stillness that draped itself over everything. Evangeline stood in the middle of the room, arms hanging limply at her sides. Her cheek smarted on the spot where Elane’s hand had been, like it still held the memory of her touch. She had only grazed it with gentle fingers, yet it still felt like a slap.

Had Elane just… broken up with her? She had been here, and now she was not, and she had said things like _I’m done_ and _See you around_ , but if Evangeline was being completely honest the words had registered as white noise in her head and her chest felt hollow, and maybe this is what it _really_ felt like to have your heart stop for ten minutes. 

The silence that barely five minutes ago seemed peaceful was now too quiet; her room, too pristine. Her fine vanity still held itself proudly next to the door, and her one-thousand thread-count sheets still sat undisturbed in her bed. The tiles on the floor almost shone with their almost aggressive cleanliness. 

It was unacceptable, the dissonance of her obscenely still room and the dejection that swirled inside of her stomach. She wanted to tear break smash stab scream, and here was her room and its fucking pulchritude. 

Her brain had also not registered when her feet carried her towards her dresser, or when her hands wrapped around the vase that sat on top. It was sleek, hand-blown, onyx-colored glass. _Crash!_ It crashed against the floor and broke into a thousand little pieces. 

Another vase, _smash_. The round mirror in her pretty vanity, cracked all over. A sharp pain burst from Evangeline’s knuckles. Liquid silver ran down her arm and dripped onto the floor. It dirtied the white linen curtains that covered her window, and soon those were on the floor too, ripped with such force that one of the ends of the curtain rod detached itself and hung halfway off the ceiling. 

A burst of exertion toppled her dresser.

A knife had materialized in Evangeline’s hand. The simple fact wasn’t too unusual: knives had appeared in her hands ever since she had the strength to grip objects. What was strange was the jagged rips that bisected her pillows, releasing a shower of goose feathers over her bed. The bedspread was wrestled off the bed and thrown on the floor. 

She headed for the door. She didn’t use her powers, then. She gripped the knife so tightly her knuckles turned white and drove it into the wood, relishing the moment when it gave way and pain, sharp and clear, shot up her arm. Then she did it again, and again, and again until she’d turned the carved door into a pincushion. 

She collapsed on her bed. Well, what was left of her bed. Her knuckles still throbbed from when she had punched her mirror. Surely after that catharsis, she would feel better, right? 

Evangeline looked inside of her long and hard. Nope, the feeling was still there, like a solid weight that pressed against her chest and pinned her to the bed, making even lifting a finger seem like an insurmountable effort. 

The memories of her last conversation with Elane rushed into Evangeline’s brain, and she’d pick over a word, an inflection, a detail she could’ve changed to make Elane stay. Evangeline thought of the many nights she came back to the Rift to find Elane in her bedroom. She thought about the red of her hair, the curve of her hips, the way the moonlight glistened on her skin like it was made for that exact purpose. 

She held the memory in her hands until she was sick of thinking about it, until the words stopped stinging, but then another one would rush in and take its place. It was like she was a rock in the sand, which the tide moves over until all its grooves are worn smooth.

Ptolemus would find her three hours later laying on her bare mattress, half-dressed, among a sprawl of feathers. 

He crept, gingerly opening the door. “Dinner is served-,” 

“GET THE HELL OUT!” Evangeline didn’t even raise her head. She didn’t need to look to know that the sight of her brother’s usually imposing figure looking all apologetic would make her want to barf. 

Couldn’t a girl lay in her own self-loathing in peace in this household? 

Ptolemus kept his stance, but his eyebrows raised in surprise, despite himself. “I’ll tell them to bring it to you, then.” He closed the door and left.

For someone whose primary emotional composition was spite and a smug sense of superiority, being mad at him seemed like a foreign feeling. He wasn’t at fault in this situation, not really, but her anger was a flood with nowhere to go, and, in that moment, he seemed like a good enough place to put it. 

“HAVE FUN FUCKING MY GIRLFRIEND, YOU ASSHOLE!” Evangeline shouted. She wasn’t together with Elane anymore, and Ptolemus was probably out of earshot, but a thrill of spite ran through her. For a second, she felt better.

\---

A day passed, and Evangeline hadn’t shown her face outside of her room.

She stopped screaming at the cleaning staff after the first night. They shuffled around her room, sweeping off the debris on the floor in absolute silence, not daring to go near the bed where she lay cocooned in her blankets. When they were done, the only reminders of her temper tantrum were the unmade bed and the punctures on the door, which was probably going to be replaced eventually. 

Those were the only people she’d seen after Ptolemus had tried to check on her, along with another maid who wheeled in whatever meal was being served at the moment. Sometimes Evangeline ate, sometimes she didn’t. Most of the time, she stared at the ceiling. 

Surely, Ptolemus would’ve told their parents about her outburst, if not, then at least about the fact that Evangeline didn’t wish to be bothered. She thought about Cal, worried about yet another inconvenience in the trials of his life. Mare Barrow, at least, would be happy she didn’t have to see Evangeline around. 

There it was, the same curious spite she felt after she screamed at Ptolemus. _It’s not like I want to see your face either, Mare Barrow_ , Evangeline thought. Triumphantly.

She heard the sound of her heavy door opening. Ever since Elane had broken up with her, time had become elastic, wounding around her so that she only distinguished day and night by the color of the sky outside her window. It felt too early for lunch, though. Only a little while ago the maid had wheeled in breakfast, an omelet platter which lay untouched on a fold-out tray beside her bed. 

“I’m not hungry,” Evangeline said. 

The voice that replied startled her. “I’m not here to bring you food.” 

Evangeline’s head shot up. Mare Barrow leaned against the door, her small figure framed by the angry stab marks Evangeline had made in the wood. She wore plain black slacks as well as a button up shirt. She’d wrapped one of those red Scarlet Guard bandannas around the collar, which, frankly, made her look like an over-excited fourteen-year-old cadet. 

Evangeline narrowed her eyes. “What gives you the nerve to talk to me right now?” 

Mare crossed her arms. “They’re calling a meeting about what we found at Kirkwall in half an hour.” 

Evangeline sighed. “Tell my father that I’m unwell.” 

“Your father didn’t call for you.” 

Surprise, and then a slight twinge of disappointment. “He didn’t? Why are _you_ here, then?” 

“Well, I just thought that since that telkie threw you around, you deserved to know what came out of the mission.” 

Under the appearance of light-heartedness, Evangeline could hear the tone in Mare’s voice. The same as Ptolemus—that is to say, extremely infuriating. Who gave Mare Barrow the right to traipse into her room, her inner sanctum, her _sadness-bubble_ , to take pity on her? Evangeline forced herself to keep her voice level. “My answer is no.” 

“Look, I know you’re probably a shaken by what happened on Tuesday,” 

“And it’s none of your concern—,” 

Mare pinched the bridge of her nose, like she had a headache. “I want you to know that I’m _trying_ to be nice to you, but you’re making it really hard right now.”

“What makes you think that I want you to be nice to me?” 

“Okay, fuck you too, then! Show your face or not, I don't care.” Mare shrugged. 

She turned around, dragged the door open, and left. Evangeline was left staring at the space where she’d been. Anger, half-unbidden, roiled in her stomach. She imagined everyone in the palace looking at her out of the corners of their eyes, speaking to her in measured words. Admittedly, that was the reaction she liked to provoke in people. They would not be afraid of her, though. They’d be afraid of hurting her feelings. 

_Disgusting_ , she thought. 

Evangeline rose from her bed. She took a shower and towel-dried her hair before she braided a silver crown around her head. After that, she swung open her closet door and picked out a cloth-of-silver suit, simple yet well-fitted, worn over a collared shirt. The crown jewel of the outfit, though, was a platinum cape that hung off her shoulders. It trailed behind her, catching the sunlight, made to flow only by her magnetron abilities. 

As she exited her room, the _click-clack_ of her heels echoed in her father’s marble hallways. Evangeline felt surer than she had felt in days. 

She was not going to let people feel bad for her, like she was some sort of wounded bird. She was going to gather the last shred of dignity she had left and drag herself to that meeting. 

Because she was Evangeline fucking Samos, and if her parents had taught her anything, it was that if you didn’t _feel_ strong, you faked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! I was kind of blown away by the response to the first chapter, as I didn't think anyone would read this--let alone like it. So, I'd like to extend a big thank-you to everyone who has left kudos and comments!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re blaming yourself,” said Kilorn.
> 
> “Pffft,” Mare snorted, “Am not.” 
> 
> “You’re making the face.”
> 
> “What face?”
> 
> “Your _I’m going to blame myself for something I had no control over_ face.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens.

If Mare hadn’t masqueraded as the long-lost daughter of a Silver lord, been held captive in the castle of a man-child king, or lost her virginity on a pile of mud, she would’ve thought these last few days had been a little weird. 

Ever since they’d returned from Kirkwall, she and Cal barely spoke to each other—but what else was new. She tried approaching Farley about the information they’d found there two days after they came back, but the general had waved her away and spent the rest of the afternoon locked in a room with the other high-ranking Scarlet Guard operatives. Their words to each other had sounded exasperated when Mare had tried passing by their meeting room, but they had been too muffled for her to make out anything. 

Mare would never admit it, but she could pinpoint the reason why she walked the halls of the Rift base with a slight unease. She knew why, whenever she’d try to lift weights in the training room, she always excused herself for a break and didn’t come back. It was in the iron palace decorations, in the collection of blades hung proudly in the training room. Evangeline Samos had never made her way into Mare’s brain as persistently as she had since they came back from Kirkwall. 

Cal had carried Evangeline into the palace when they arrived at dawn on Wednesday. She had lost consciousness in the transport. Although Mare had spent the rest of the ride anxiously feeling the slow pulse of Evangeline’s heart, the vision of them turning up with her body kept floating around Mare’s mind. As Ella, Bryce and, eventually, Cal, settled into an uneasy sleep, Mare stayed up, jostled awake by another wave of stress whenever she felt her eyelids close. 

Fortunately, Evangeline stayed alive long enough to make it back from Kirkwall so a healer could tend to her properly, and Mare only had to contend with the withering look Evangeline’s father had shot her when Cal told him what happened. Mare would live; she had faced much worse from Silver elites. 

Then, Evangeline straight up disappeared for two days. Not showing up to dinner the day they came back made sense—who wouldn’t be shaken after a brush with death like that? But the next day, she hadn’t shown up for breakfast like she usually did. When Mare didn’t see her in the training room, where Evangeline usually liked to show off, she knew something was up. She’d even caught an uncharacteristic glimpse of Elane Haven, weaving herself in and out of sight—she’d been alone.

“Have you seen Evangeline around?” Mare had asked Ella once. It was Thursday, and they had left the palace on the pretense of refining their lightning. The Samos’s garden—if it could be called one—consisted of a fountain surrounded by a series of imposing abstract steel sculptures, which were, in turn, encircled by a sleek silver fence. 

“Nope, haven’t seen her,” Ella replied. An errant spark of hers bounced against one of the sculptures. She giggled. “When did you start caring about what that Silver girl does so much?” 

Mare sighed. “I don’t know! It’s just kind of weird that no one has seen her since the mission.” 

Ella flipped her shoulder-length hair. “Look, if it’s any use to you, Rafe told me that he heard Cal talking about how he talked to Evangeline’s brother and he told him that Evangeline was shut up in her room. Something about emotional trauma.” 

_Everyone here has emotional trauma_ , Mare thought. Instead, she said, “Is that true?” 

“Do you want to talk to any of her immediate family?” 

Mare did not. “Fair point.”

\---

“You’re blaming yourself,” said Kilorn.

They were standing off to the side in the cramped meeting room. Silver, Red and Newblood, official after official entered in a stream of red bandannas and house colors, as well as Montfort uniforms that stood out among the diverse clothing of the Nortans. At the head of the table, Premier Davidson spoke to Farley over a heavy binder. Both wore matching frowns. 

“Pffft,” Mare snorted, “Am _not_.”

“You’re making the face.”

“What face?”

“Your _I’m going to blame myself for something I had no control over_ face.”

Mare scoffed, but she tried to relax her facial muscles. Surely, this is what well-adjusted people looked like. “You’re making shit up at this point.”

Kilorn chuckled. “Doubtful.”

Off to the left, Volo Samos observed the proceedings. He resembled a hawk, with an aquiline nose, piercing black eyes and a high-necked collar that reached just below his chin. He stood serenely, quiet as the rest of the meeting-goers filled the room with a chorus of murmurs. Mare’s eye caught his for a second, just fast enough for his silver eyebrows to draw together in disgust. She quickly looked away. 

With an offhand look at the man who was bankrolling a significant part of this operation, Kilorn said, “If anything, he should be _thanking_ you. You saved his daughter’s life.” He lowered his voice. “Considering that you had every reason to not do that, based on your, uh, history.”

“Well, he doesn’t see it that way.” Even if Mare was the Lightning Girl, she knew that she was just a lowly Red to Volo Samos. He would’ve preferred that Evangeline left her for dead and saved herself. Mare scanned the crowd for any sign of her and found none. 

Her eye caught a flash of a silver bracelet on a pale hand, and her heart jumped involuntarily, only in a speak-of-the-devil kind of way. Immediately after that, though, she noticed that the body it was attached to was wearing Montfort army fatigues and waving frantically in Mare’s direction. Ella moved through the crowd, dragging Bryce behind her by the wrist, until she was beside Mare and Kilorn. 

“Hey, y’all!” Ella said, “I found this one huddled in the bathroom.” She pointed to Bryce, who looked at their clasped hands with confusion. “I think I’ve adopted him.”

Mare didn’t have time to process that information, because at that moment Cameron Cole sidled up to the group and said, “I think it’s a good thing that Samos got hit. Hopefully, that reminded her that she can die like the rest of us.” 

“We were talking about that earlier,” Kilorn said. 

“I know. She looks like she swallowed a bird,” Cameron replied, tilting her head toward Mare. 

Kilorn snorted. Mare opened her mouth, irritated, then closed it again. 

At the center of the room, Farley cleared her throat. The din of conversations happening around the room didn’t stop, so she closed the heavy binder in front of her with a snap and slammed it against the glass tabletop. The noise made everyone startle, and Mare could feel the silence settling over the crowd like a blanket. She swore she saw Volo Samos’s eye twitch. 

Farley swept her gaze across the room. There was a pause. “Good morning everyone,” she said, “I’m pleased all of you could make it to this meeting.” Her face betrayed no feeling of the sort. 

When no one replied to her, she continued. “I’m going to cut to the chase: The drive we found at Kirkwall contained information about an allyship between King Maven and Prince Bracken of Piedmont.” The murmurs started up again. 

This time, Davidson spoke up. “We’ve sent word to Montfort, and the security around Bracken’s children has been tripled.” Bracken’s children, kidnapped to use as leverage so the Scarlet Guard could take over the air base in Piedmont. If anyone was perturbed by this, they didn’t show it. “We’ve also alerted the Piedmont base with an order to evacuate, just in case. As of oh-one hundred hours today, they were in the process of getting everyone out.” 

Davidson pointed to the person to his left, Tahir, the Newblood who—along with his two brothers—served as the Premier’s messenger. “However, when Tahir tried to contact his brother, Rash, at the base, he found-” 

“I was cut off,” Tahir interjected, looking positively disturbed. “Ibarem, too. This has never happened to us before… We tried the comms—nothing.” He hadn’t said it out loud, but Mare knew what had happened. The memory of the Silent Stone settled itself at the bottom of her stomach. It had never really left. 

The silence simmered in the room for a few seconds before Farley spoke. “Now, we don’t know if the residents of the Piedmont base have been captured for sure, which is why the Premier himself is leading a scouting mission to bring whomever we find back here.” 

“Of course,” Davidson added, “We wouldn’t have the information that led us to evacuate in the first place if it wasn’t for the team that retrieved the drive.” He clapped his hands together, which the crowd weakly emulated. Mare felt the weight of everyone’s eyes on her and a faint warmth on her cheeks. She looked at Cal, who stood sandwiched between his grandmother and Julian Jacos with a blank expression on his face. 

She thought she saw Volo Samos’s mouth move as he leaned toward his son Ptolemus, who stood to his right. Farley didn’t even look up from the table when she said, “Is there something you wish to share with us, Samos?” 

Lord Samos had pressed his lips together in a thin line. “I was just wondering when you were going to ask me if you could flood my palace with refugees.” 

Farley bristled. “This is our largest Nortan base of operations, is it not? Would you rather they be out on the street?” 

“I’m sorry if I misspoke, _general_ ,” Lord Samos said, in a tone that suggested entirely the opposite, “but King Maven’s allegiances have us landlocked. I don’t think it’s very wise to make such an expenditure of personnel and equipment to head to an enemy country to rescue people that are, frankly, expendable.”

The scar at the corner of her mouth seemed to deepen the frown on Farley’s face. No one spoke as she calmly, purposefully, set the binder in front of her aside. “First of all, Lord Samos,” Farley said, “some of our best men were in that base, along with several hundreds of people whose lives are at stake right now. So, they are not, in fact, expendable.” 

“If you’re implying that I don’t care about the human cost of this war,” replied Lord Samos, “I’ll remind you that my own children are fighting in it. My daughter very nearly _died_ at Kirkwall, due to your own team’s incompetence at carrying out a simple stealth mission!” 

Farley opened her mouth to retort, but she was interrupted by Anabel Lerolan, “Do _we_ get no say on this matter?” 

At that point, Mare stopped paying attention to them. Volo’s disparaging comment had brought another wave of stares to her corner of the room, and Mare thought about how nice it would’ve been to descend to the soil and become one with the Earth at that moment. If she was thankful for this coalition in any way, it was that she could leave the strategizing—and the bickering—to the adults. What was this meeting, if not a drawn-out staring contest between the Red and Silver camps, like an intense three-way duel? 

Mare was drawn out of her stupor by the sound of the door opening. The tall figure of Evangeline came into view. She’d taken the time (like, _really_ taken the time—Mare hazarded it had maybe been an hour after she’d left Evangeline’s room) to make herself look presentable. She’d switched the disheveled mane and nightgown Mare had found her in for a neat braid crown and a suit, as well as a metallic cape that half-blinded Mare as she strode into the room. She looked like a glittering ball by way of a power suit. 

Volo Samos clasped his hands. “Ah, my daughter! How generous of you to grace us with your presence!” 

Evangeline’s face had carried the haughtiness of a young woman at her debut ball, and yet, Mare couldn’t help but marvel at the way it deflated right before her eyes. For a second, her smirk had untwisted itself, and she resembled a lost child looking around the room for somewhere to sit. Her father beckoned her with a slight turn of his head, but Evangeline moved to stand behind Cal instead. Mare had learned a lot of things about both Cal and Evangeline in the last year, so she was doubly surprised when Evangeline awkwardly draped her arm over his—something she did with considerably more ease and frequency when they were engaged at Summerton. Both wore matching mortified expressions. 

Davidson raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Now that we’re in, ah, agreement about _that_ issue,” he said, “we leave at thirteen-hundred hours. If anyone would like to volunteer, General Farley and I will stay here after the meeting.” 

After a grueling hour of talk about supply lines, Farley had declared the meeting dismissed and the crowd had begun to trickle out of the room. Mare walked to where she was sitting with a pile of papers. 

“You know I’ll never let Volo Samos think he’s right about anything,” Farley said, “but please try not to alert the entire base on your next stealth mission.” 

“The next time, I’ll make sure to let the entire country know,” Mare said, “Hopefully, the guard won’t break my nose this time.” She pointed to the spot on the bridge of her nose where the break would’ve been. However, it sloped in a clean line due to Sara Skonos’s ministrations. 

Farley turned to look at her, _are-you-shitting-me_ written on her face. Mare raised her eyebrows like _No-I’m-definitely-not-shitting-you_. Farley shook her head and turned back to what she was writing. 

“If you’re thinking about volunteering for the mission, my answer is no. Both as a member of your family and as your general,” she said. 

Mare opened her mouth to reply. 

Farley looked up, and her face softened, the line of her scar less harsh against her mouth. “Get some rest, Mare.”

\---

Kilorn was chattering away at Mare’s side as they exited the meeting room to go to the massive dining hall that had been turned into a makeshift cafeteria. Still, her mind couldn’t bring itself to focus on his words, or on _resting_ , as Farley had said. Instead, it spiraled around what she’d heard at the meeting.

Maven might’ve captured all the people in the Piedmont base. They might all be imprisoned, or, hell, killed, and she was staying here while other people did all the work. Worse, she was wasting her time in this shithole palace. 

The perfect blank walls of the hallway, their sparse silver decoration, irritated her. With a pang of nostalgia, she remembered the pretty houses in Piedmont, the bright walls of the one she shared with her family. Maybe she just missed her family, period. 

They started to make a turn to the left when a sound reached Mare’s ears and brought her out of her reverie. A faint, choked noise that sounded almost like… crying? Mare stopped. 

“So then Cameron told me that…” Kilorn was saying, but his voice petered out when he realized that Mare wasn’t walking. “Mare. Mare?”

She waved him away. “Go ahead without me, I just forgot something in the meeting room.” 

Kilorn shrugged and turned to leave, but something in his worried face told Mare that he hadn’t quite bought the lie. Her whole attention, though, was dedicated to finding the source of the sound she’d heard inside one of the numerous doors that lined the hallway.

She peered into the only one whose door had been left ajar, what looked to be a small tea-room. It was empty, though. If anything, the sound seemed to come from a nearby closet, a series of sobs that sounded muffled, as if whoever was making them didn’t want to be found out. 

Something in Mare, however, told her to wrap her hand around the doorknob and pull the door open. The sharp scent of the chemicals assaulted her nostrils as the noise subsided. Mare stopped her mouth from hanging open. 

Evangeline was curled up against the far wall of the closet. She’d taken her blazer off, but knees of that shimmering pantsuit were held tight against her chest. Her face, marred by tear-tracks and smudged eyeliner, glared at Mare from the other side of the room. Venom dripped from Evangeline’s voice as she said, “Oh, it’s _you_.”

Mare was kicking herself for not expecting this development, what with the delightful day that she’d been having up to this point. It hadn’t been three hours since she’d followed one of the maids to Evangeline’s room, where she’d confirmed what Ella had told her out in the garden. It was the first time Mare had seen Evangeline like this since they met each other, where she wasn’t haughty or smirking or confident. She was like… like a mess. And then Mare had cursed her out. 

So, she only said, “Yes, it’s me. I’ll leave you alone now. Happy crying.”

Mare had one foot out the door when she heard, “Wait!” 

Her body turned around automatically. Evangeline, still on the floor, stretched her legs out and crossed them. She wiped a tear off her cheek with the back of her hand. “I’m… I just…” She sniffled. “I’m fine.” 

Mare put her hand on her hip. “Look, you’re clearly _not_ fine. And I get it, that’s how I feel every day,” she said, “So go knife something, or bully someone, or have Elane Haven lick your wounds, or whatever you do to make yourself feel better because I—” 

“Elane broke up with me.” Oh. _Oh_. 

Evangeline said it quietly, the way that someone does when they haven’t admitted something out loud before. Her eyes were glistening once again. 

Mare had been through her share of heartbreaks, so many that she couldn’t even count them. She remembered her and Cal’s last break up, where the gaping hole in her heart had soon been filled with smoldering rage. They were lonely people, but they'd been alone _together_. Yet, the moment that Cal had a chance to regain his status, he hadn’t hesitated. She truly had meant so little to him. 

Something in Mare led her to gingerly close the door and sit down against it. Evangeline seemed to take that as a cue to keep talking. “It happened the day after we came back from the mission.” 

Mare cut her off. “That’s a dick move.”

“What?” 

“I mean,” Mare said, “you’re recovering from literally _dying_ and she goes and breaks up with you? I’d be really pissed.” 

Evangeline looked away. She had relaxed her posture, but her hands still twisted the fabric of her ridiculous cape on her lap. It took Mare a moment to realize she wasn’t actually touching it, just manipulating the metal so it flowed around her hands. 

“She was tired,” Evangeline paused, “of hiding, sneaking around. I’m engaged to Cal, and then Mother is pressuring her and Tolly to have children.” 

Mare would’ve made a remark about the Silvers’ bizarre blood purity obsession then, but there was no use repeating something that they both knew. Certainly not when it had caused Mare and countless people so much suffering. Instead, she stayed silent and kept her eyes trained on Evangeline’s hands, the way that the metal fabric went back and forth and back and forth. 

“Though if Cal decided that he didn’t want to marry me anymore,” Evangeline said quietly. Mare watched the realization bloom in her face. “…because he wanted to be with you…”

Mare needed to put a stop to it, like, immediately. The pivot in the conversation was turning her stomach. “I don’t know, Evangeline. I mean, you saw us in that mission. I don’t think we can be in the same room together without wanting to tear each other’s heads off.”

Evangeline pushed herself off the floor and shouldered on her suit jacket. “No, it’s just that you snap at him whenever he so much as breathes in your direction! That man is walking around the palace like someone pissed in his drink. He is _so_ sad.”

“Maybe if he hadn’t betrayed me…” Mare muttered. 

“Oh, grow up, Barrow. Betrayal is like the royal family’s favorite pastime.” Evangeline jabbed a finger in Mare’s direction. “What _you_ need to do is seize power for yourself.”

Mare crossed her arms. “What are you going to do? Lock us in an elevator until we kiss?” 

“What _we_ are going to do,” said Evangeline, “is scheme.”

Mare was about to say _Absolutely fucking not_. She was about to say that she really would like it if she didn’t see Cal’s stupid face again in her lifetime. 

However, that was when a thought popped into her head. She remembered the night after the siege at Corvium, confronting Farley and Davidson after her disappointment. _Divide and conquer_ , they had said. If Cal decided that he didn’t want to marry Evangeline anymore, the alliance between Cal's family and the Kingdom of the Rift would be severed. And it would be doubly easy to burn this godforsaken country down and salt the earth beneath. 

So, she stood up, looked Evangeline in the eye and said, “Sure. Okay. I’ll do it.” 

Evangeline straightened and fastened her tacky cape on. She haphazardly ran the side of her hands under her eyes until the smudged eyeliner was mostly wiped away. Soon, she was back to looking like the icy Silver princess Mare knew. 

“I’ll arrange for us to meet tomorrow, as soon as possible,” Evangeline said. She looked Mare up and down. “And, please, try to look presentable.”

She didn’t say it, but Mare plainly understood. _This moment of vulnerability is over. If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I’ll gut you and twist the knife._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back with a new chapter. Again, thanks to everyone who has left kudos and comments: they're a big source of motivation! 
> 
> I didn't realize that I liked Kilorn until I was writing about him and Mare teasing each other, so I definitely want to write more of their dynamic later in the story, lol. Dialogue is my favorite part of writing. I had to rework the third chapter quite a bit since I had a vague idea of where I wanted the plot to go but kept writing myself into corners. Hopefully, it's smoother sailing from here. 
> 
> I just wanted to make a note here that I started my new semester of college online a few weeks ago, so I'm busier than I was before. However, this is my first attempt at a long-form, multi-chapter work, and I'm committed to finishing it and updating at least once a month. 
> 
> If you made it this far, thanks for reading!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Mare Barrow emerged from the building. She took her sweet time walking to where Evangeline sat and stopped when she was at arm’s breadth, hands shoved into her pockets. “Well, I’m here,” she said.
> 
> Evangeline frowned. “You’re late.”
> 
> “I didn’t know you wanted the guards to see us walk out there together like best friends.”

What had happened was that after that disastrous meeting had ended, Evangeline’s father had pulled her and her brother into an adjoining tearoom. Her father had looked grim then, staring down at her with a deep-set frown, and Evangeline had braced herself for a stern talking-to. 

Instead, she tried not to gasp as her father pulled her tightly against his chest. His chin rested atop her head; his hand, against her hair, and Evangeline couldn’t help feeling an unbearable tightness in her heart. “Oh, my daughter,” he’d murmured, and she was seized by the sudden urge to cry. 

It didn’t last long, because not two seconds after that he had grabbed her by the shoulders and harshly pulled her away from him so that she was staring at his eyes—the jet-black eyes she’d inherited, so dark she could almost see her own confused reflection in them. He spoke to her in a measured tone. It was well-known that Volo Samos did not scream. “What is wrong with you?” 

Hmm. That was a question. 

Evangeline had been a model daughter. She’d done everything her parents had asked of her. She’d excelled at her training, and she could make a weapon out of nearly every metal object, from an armored transport to a silver spoon. Hell, she’d even slept with a bullet around her neck for two years, for who-knows-what fucking reason. She’d even really, really tried to like boys, so much so that she’d actually started to believe it: She’d nodded dutifully when her mother had pointed to a thirteen-year-old Cal across the banquet hall and whispered, with a hunger in her voice, “That’s your future husband. Isn’t he handsome?” 

After several days of languishing in her room, Evangeline had concluded that this line of failure was due to the Universe conspiring against her. She had blamed Mare Barrow at first, but then she thought that explanation was too obvious. One time, when Mare was still carrying out the elaborate ruse on the Court that everyone—including herself—had been stupid enough to fall for, she’d caught the tail end of one of Julian Jacos’s tutoring sessions with her. He was going on about the fall of humanity, or some stupid shit like that, but he talked about a concept that had piqued her interest. 

“When humans still believed in powers beyond themselves,” he’d said, “there was a word for pride so large that it angered the gods: _hubris_. Our downfall is brought about when we position ourselves above things that are beyond our control…” _and yadda, yadda, yadda_. 

Evangeline had thought it was a bunch of nonsense back then, but maybe there was a grain of truth to it, to the pride that wounds. She had thought that once she won the Queenstrial—a victory she felt was inevitable—everything would fall into place and she’d be invincible. Yet here she was: jilted, re-engaged, deathly injured, and alone. Cosmic revenge. 

Her father would’ve been sure she’d lost her mind if she tried to explain that to him, so she just said, “I’ve just done what you asked me to do.” 

Volo narrowed his eyes. “You locked yourself in your room ever since you returned from that mission. I’ve had people ask me about your whereabouts for the last three days! Do you know how humiliating it has been to have to make excuses for your moping? And that display at the meeting—”

Evangeline bristled. “Am I not allowed to have time to rest, Father?”

Her father raised a hand to stop her before she could talk further. Evangeline’s mouth snapped closed. “You put your life at risk on that mission, for _what_? That Red girl? Do you understand what it would’ve meant for this kingdom if you had died?” 

Evangeline sighed. “Yes, Father.” It was a reminder that she was an asset, specifically conceived to marry the prince. Earlier in her life, she would’ve prided herself on that fact, but as she was trying to field her father’s stare, she just felt like a pawn. 

“This is not the behavior I expect from a future queen, much less from any daughter I have raised,” Volo said. He reached to tuck in a stray silver lock that had escaped from her braid crown behind her ear. “So, stop this nonsense and act like a lady of your stature.” 

He stepped back. “Are we understood?” 

“Yes,” Evangeline muttered. 

Her father raised an eyebrow. He spoke more forcefully, “Are we _understood_?” 

“We are understood,” Evangeline said, biting back her anger. She closed her right hand in a fist and dug her nails in, so much so that it started to sting. 

“Very well,” Volo spun and headed toward the door. At that moment, Evangeline thought she saw something flicker in the corner of the room, next to a wardrobe. It was a trick of the light, where the way it fell didn’t look quite _right_ , imperceptible if you didn’t know what to look for. It was the work of a Shadow. _Elane_. 

The wave of anxiety hit Evangeline so hard she thought she could taste bile at the back of her throat. Elane had shadowed her for years, yet, now that they weren’t together anymore, she felt like an intruder, an eager spectator of yet another humiliation. Evangeline’s legs pulled her toward the exit without thinking. 

Ptolemus’s hand on her forearm stopped her. “Evie, what’s wrong? Elane isn’t telling me anything either, is something going on between you two?” 

“Don’t _touch_ me,” the words came out in a snarl as Evangeline ripped her arm away. She didn’t even look at him as she left the room and walked down the hallway. Then, she ripped open the door to the nearest cleaning closet.

\---

The next day at breakfast, her father didn’t mention their conversation in the tea-room. No one even mentioned that they hadn’t seen Evangeline around for the last three days. It was like if, after that disturbance, they had reset the scales and everything had become balanced again: the stern father, his lovely wife, their dashing son, and their dutiful daughter. A perfect little family.

They clustered around a round table in one of the sitting rooms, illuminated by the morning sunlight that came in through the windows that lined the far wall. Evangeline’s father picked at his eggs, but he frowned in concentration at the daily reports stacked to the left of his plate. Then, her mother sat across from him, periodically taking sips from a cup of tea. 

Evangeline couldn’t bring herself to look at Elane. She was seated to the right of Ptolemus, and she looked lovely as ever in a high-necked, short-sleeved black gown. Evangeline would try to steal glances whenever she thought she wasn’t looking, but her eyes always wandered back to her hands bunched up in her lap. She thought she could feel her stomach slamming against her heart. 

She had sent a note to Mare Barrow with one of the maids, and she could only assume that the Lightning Girl had gotten it. If anything, she would prove that her embarrassing hope paid off when she went to meet her in the East wing of the palace. 

“Evangeline,” Her mother’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “you haven’t touched your food, dear.”

Evangeline looked down at her plate, where the only thing she’d done to her scrambled eggs was push them around and cut them up into smaller pieces. “I’m just not very hungry.” 

“Is everything alright? Should I call in a healer?” 

_What I need_ , Evangeline thought, _is for everyone to stop treating me like I’m made of glass_. But she just said, “No… that won’t be necessary.” 

Her mother narrowed her eyes but said nothing, while her father looked up from his papers. If she was trying to project an image of being _fine_ , totally _fine_ , completely _fine_ , then she was failing. 

So, she weathered another half hour of that meal, trying to gulp down pieces of food, until her parents left and Ptolemus looked at her sadly from his spot at the table before she disappeared through the doorway. 

Evangeline made her way through the halls of the palace until she’d crossed a set of double doors into the blinding sunlight of the gardens. At this time in the morning, they were empty. She sat down in front of the fountain, holding on to the crisp filing folder laid on top of her lap. She felt the water spray on her back and the metal hand-sculpting on her dress heat up against her skin. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Mare Barrow emerged from the building. She took her sweet time walking to where Evangeline sat and stopped when she was at arm’s breadth, hands shoved into her pockets. “Well, I’m here,” she said. 

In contrast to Evangeline’s pewter gown, Mare was dressed in boots, olive-green cargo pants, and an oversized black jacket. Evangeline frowned. “You’re late.”

“I didn’t know you wanted the guards to see us walk out there together like best friends.” Mare flipped the purple tips of her hair over her shoulder and shrugged the jacket off. Underneath, a white tank top hugged her torso and exposed her toned arms. 

Evangeline tried to look away, and her gaze landed on where a silvery scar spread out above her collarbone. At her staring, Mare pointed at it and said, offhandedly, “It’s a souvenir from your ex-fiancé.” She cleared her throat. That was that for talking about her mysterious scar. “Anyway, my lunch break ends in half an hour, so. Let’s get this over with.”

“We should go somewhere more… intimate,” Evangeline said. She stood up primly from her spot near the fountain and moved away from the metal sculptures to where the hedged paths snaked around the palace. 

Mare chuckled. “Look, I’m flattered by the offer, but I don’t really swing that way.”

“Bold of you to think I’d ever fuck you,” Evangeline shot back, smirking. She didn’t need to look back to see the blush spread over Mare’s face. She walked six feet behind Evangeline in silence, as if show how much she didn’t want to be here. 

Evangeline herself had stormed into her room yesterday after their encounter and thrown that horrible suit across the room, burning inside-out from the embarrassment. Mare had walked in on her crying—no, _weeping_ —in a closet, of course. Evangeline reasoned, though, that she had her place in her life. For all the animosity between them, they had a propensity for crossing paths in unlikely ways. And now, Mare could help her. They could help each other. 

They reached a secluded corner, where they were surrounded by pruned hedges and bushes of white roses. Evangeline tried not to think about all the times that she and Elane had stolen away to this place. Instead, she turned her focus on Mare standing before her, with her arms crossed and a stare more guarded than Maven himself. 

Mare took in a breath. “So, what are we going to do? I mean, that’s why you brought me here, right? To tell me your super special plan to seduce Cal or whatever.” 

Evangeline pretended to inspect the finger armor on her nails. She simply said, “We’re going to fight.” 

“Wait, here?” Mare asked, “Don’t you do that in the training room?” 

“Not _spar_ , fight. Like, have a spat. A tussle.” 

The plan had made perfect sense to Evangeline—that is, when she had feverishly turned it around in her head in the early hours of the morning instead of sleeping. She tried to look as smug as possible while explaining, “Look, every weekday at exactly three in the afternoon, Cal takes a walk through this very garden. And there’s anything we know about him, it’s that—” 

Mare counted on her fingers while she cut in, “He’s two-faced, a snake, and a coward.” 

“…he’s honorable to a fault,” finished Evangeline, at the same time. 

Mare stared at her; disbelief written on her face. She opened and closed her mouth. Evangeline marveled at her resemblance to a dead fish. “You’re only saying that because compared to you, Cal has, like, morals,” Mare spluttered.

“Maybe so, but he’ll never pass up a chance to play hero,” Evangeline shrugged, “You two are perfect for each other that way.” 

Mare didn’t even register the casual insult. She just said, “So what? You’re going to beat me up and then Cal is going to feel bad for me and swoop in?” 

“Well,” said Evangeline. “No.” A few seconds passed. Mare looked at her through narrowed eyes. “Not exactly. Hopefully, we’ll manage to get his attention just by arguing, but who knows? Things might get physical if it comes to it.” 

“ _Sure_ ,” Mare said, “If it comes to it.” 

“Yeah,” Evangeline continued, shrugging, “and when he’s sent me away like the gallant knight he is, then you can have your moment and talk about your shared traumas or whatever.” 

Mare laughed grimly. “Right. And then he’ll take me back right there on the spot and renounce the Crown, and everyone will live happily ever after.”

She stood in the shade of the hedge with an almost forced nonchalance and toyed with the ends of her hair. The more that Evangeline looked at her, she wondered how someone as strait-laced as Cal could’ve fallen for a girl that radiated the energy of a small, yappy dog. Maybe he just was the right person to get her not to bite. It had been the same for Evangeline, with Elane. 

“Do you have any better ideas?” Evangeline asked. The midday sun beamed directly at her face. She could feel a headache coming on. 

Still, at Mare’s silence, she smiled, satisfied. She opened her filing folder. “Didn’t think so. Anyway, I wrote a script.”

\---

They were getting back to the statue garden when Evangeline spotted a figure near the threshold of the entrance of the palace. It was Mare’s friend, What’s-his-face. She’d seen him before in meetings and in the dining hall, always smiling and never far from Mare’s side. Now, a frown was drawn upon his face as he jogged out to meet them by the fountain.

Before either of them could say anything to him, he opened his mouth. “Farley needs you in the meeting room,” he said, between pants, “We got word back from the mission in Piedmont.” 

Mare only nodded, and before Evangeline could process the situation, all three of them were half-walking, half-running through the halls of the palace. Mare and her friend led the way while Evangeline trailed behind, holding up the skirts of her gown. She suddenly wished that she’d opted to go casual and wear boots today—it didn’t help her speed that she was running in heels. 

“Dude,” Mare’s friend told her, “I’ve been looking for you _everywhere_. Where were you?” 

“It’s,” Mare started. She sighed. “It’s complicated.”

Her friend looked at Evangeline from the corner of his eye with distaste. It was the first time he’d acknowledged her in the last five minutes. “Yeah, I bet.” 

Evangeline glared back at him. Something she couldn’t see passed between him and Mare, though, and the conversation was extinguished before it could even begin. That, and they had just turned the corner into the hall where their destination was. 

Mare’s friend pushed the door open, and they entered a meeting room, one smaller than the one from yesterday. The blond general—Farley—and a group of soldiers of all stripes were clustered around one of the monitors fixed to the wall. Evangeline spotted Cal, brooding off to the side with his arms crossed, and Ptolemus, who only raised his eyebrows upon seeing her creep into the room.

Everyone was focused on the image plastered on the monitor. Evangeline didn’t register what it was at first. A pile of blackened wood laying on the floor. A few poles standing crookedly, despite everything. The odd patch of green underbrush rising up from the wreckage. 

The realization his Evangeline suddenly. It was the compound in Piedmont, not just burned down, but _razed_. Maven’s work. Evangeline tried to imagine the compound like it’d been before, even if she had never gone to it. She could only be certain that it had looked nothing like this.

Upon noticing the three of them, General Farley only said, “They found it all like that.” She didn’t look particularly annoyed that they had been late. She didn’t show any expression at all, just an intense, almost religious focus on the footage on the monitor.

“They only found one person in the jail cells—Rash” the General continued, “He was left to die. And to send a message.” 

To Evangeline’s right, Mare Barrow stared at the video of the burned-down compound, her eyes as wide as saucers. Her mouth was held shut in a tremulous line. “And the others?” she breathed. 

The General only said what they already knew. “Taken, most likely.” Evangeline heard Mare gasp lowly. “There’s nothing in the remains of the compound, no mass graves. The only bodies are those who died fighting.”

Mare looked simultaneously on the verge of tears and unspeakably angry.“He took them as bait,” she said, “For me.” 

Evangeline didn’t care for the particulars of the King’s obsession with Mare Barrow. She’d had too many interminable meetings with Maven and his advisors where the Lightning Girl had been the first thing on the agenda, and it was, frankly, pathetic. She _was_ conscious, though, that if Maven had joined forces with the Lakelands and Piedmont, their alliance was surrounded. When she locked eyes with Ptolemus across the room, his gaze showed the same thing. In no uncertain terms, they were fucked.

That night, Evangeline oscillated between sleep and wakefulness. In her dreams, she’d feel a force slam into her body, and then she was falling, falling, falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! I come out of the bushes to deliver Chapter 4. It's amazing how much writing you can get done when you have an outline instead of random notes in a Word doc and, like, have an idea of where your story is going. I didn't set out to write a fix-it fic (and, considering how inept I am at Plotting, I really don't consider it one), but it's shaping out to be War Storm's Plot but A Little to the Left and with more lesbian shenanigangs. Well. It is what it is ;_;
> 
> Again, I really appreciate all the kudos and comments so far! Thanks for reading!!


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